Marlins' Samson makes The Show

Carline Jean / Sun Sentinel

Marlins president David Samson checks the time before starting a 52 1/2 mile run to the Marlins Stadium in Miami. Samson left Pompano Beach At 7 Am Friday morning and is scheduled to arrive at Marlins Park shortly before the game begins Friday night.

Marlins president David Samson checks the time before starting a 52 1/2 mile run to the Marlins Stadium in Miami. Samson left Pompano Beach At 7 Am Friday morning and is scheduled to arrive at Marlins Park shortly before the game begins Friday night. (Carline Jean / Sun Sentinel)

So there I was Friday night, rushing to the theater, hurrying to catch the curtain rise on the smashing, new actor — the one whose voice has "Michael Douglas timbre," a critic wrote — when I nearly bumped into him going to my seat.

"Hey," David Samson said, waiting for his entrance.

"Good luck," I said.

That was quicker than saying, "Break a leg," which you're technically supposed to say in going from sports writer to theater critic, which is what I did for one night, sort of, maybe, if you think about it.

But that was nothing compared to Samson's change over the next two hours from Marlins president to Saturday Night Live creator Lorne Michaels in the New Theater's production of, "Not Ready For Prime Time."

One minute, Samson was in his dressing room, putting on make-up and watching the Marlins take the lead against San Diego on television. The next minute, he was on stage inventing the iconic TV show.

He was discovering Gilda Radner, pushing John Belishi. He plotted. He laughed. He cursed, which in practicing lines with his 10-year-old son, Caleb, changed their rule of, "using clubhouse language only in the clubhouse," he said.

Here is what Samson did on stage most of all: He made you examine if you're stretching your life enough. Think of it. He doesn't just run the business side of a major-league team. He runs marathons. He appeared on the TV show, 'Survivor.'

Now he has a meaty role in a play with professional actors and hopes of (gulp) making it to Broadway.

"I just want to ask him one thing," one of the 50 members of the audience asked during intermission (as Samson checked the Marlins score in the dressing room). "What made him do this?"

That's the first, fascinating question, isn't it? Why would a sports executive take on his first, dramatic role at age 46, open himself to failing, make himself vulnerable to criticism and uncomfortable in such a public setting?

"I want adventure," Samson said.

He's always been a complicated personality. Here's a story: At 15, living in a New York high-rise, he feared parachuters would drop into his apartment and kidnap him. That led to a life-long desire to sleep with lights on when alone.

At some point, Samson decided since he couldn't dunk a basketball or throw a baseball 90 mph that he'd change his sights. He'd do feats ordinary people could do if they had the discipline and ambition.

Thus, the baseball exec did marathons, Ironmans and Survivor. Thus, too, when New Theater approached him five years ago about writing a 10-minute play as part of a celebrity playwright show, he agreed on one condition: He'd act the part.

Playwright Erik J. Rodriguez enjoyed Samson's performance enough to say if a proper script ever came, he'd call Samson. Four years later, Rodriguez sent him the part of Michaels.

Samson did what any aspiring actor does. He auditioned for the part. He got called back. He won the role. He drove from spring training in Jupiter to south Dade for the rehearsals.

He now performs for the next month in this weekend-only run. So he drives from the ballpark to the theater. And back. Hours with his baseball team. Hours with his drama team.

"All of us have roles to play in life," he said. "Sometimes I'm a father. Sometimes I'm president of a baseball team."

He now has this entertaining role from the 1970s as a comedic creator. There's a live band and a lively audience that's encouraged how to react with live-studio signs like, "Applause," and "Oooooo."

When the show was over, Samson walked out of the dressing room, looking at his cell phone. He was the Marlins president again.

"We won, 8-2," he said.

He didn't have much time. A special midnight show was being held. They call baseball's big-leagues, "The Show." Here, they just know the show must go on.